


Living, Not Surviving

by csi_sanders1129



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, M/M, Post Deus Ex Machina, Reunions, Spoilers, Stroll, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1650890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csi_sanders1129/pseuds/csi_sanders1129
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a man who is not John Reese meets a man who is not Harold Finch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living, Not Surviving

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to cottoncandy_bingo prompt: stroll. This was originally supposed to be a happy, fluffy post-season fic for when John rescued Harold from DECIMA, but alas, that was not to be. This happened instead - so it should go without saying that there are spoilers for 3x23 - Deus Ex Machina. It'll probably have some more parts. Characters are not mine, please enjoy! Comments are awesome.

* * *

A man who is not John Reese sits on a bench in a Seattle park on what is a rare sunny day in the usually rainy city. It's still early, and still a bit chilly, so only a handful of other people are around, most of whom are jogging or bird watching or idly walking around the lake for which the park is named. Others, like the man, have claimed other benches in the sprawling park, reading or resting or chatting or bird feeding. The man, who is not John Reese, is waiting.

But he's almost done.

A glance at his watch tells him that it is almost time. Any second now, just as is the case on every other weekday morning (and he's been watching for close to two weeks out of the anxious months he has spent awaiting this moment), he'll be done.

He folds up the issue of the _Seattle Times_ that he has been pretending to read for the last half an hour and sets it aside. Anxiously, he smoothes imaginary wrinkles from his dark jeans, his button-down shirt (since he is not John Reese, nor the so-called 'Man in the Suit,' he's clad a bit more casually) and breathes in a sigh of relief when he finally spots the familiar figures coming into view on the winding path right on time.

The man, who is not Harold Finch, walks slowly, with an ever-loyal canine at his side. Bear must sense him, though, because despite his training, there comes a happy little bark of recognition and the dog tries to speed up their unhurried pace. This alerts the dog's handler that something is awry and the not-quite stranger hears a sharp, " _Bewaken,_ " the Dutch command for 'Alert,' and reluctantly the dog stills, settles.

Not-Harold's eyes scan the park carefully, looking for whatever has riled up the dog. He settles his gaze on the man waiting on the bench, and there must be something familiar about him because for a second there's a flash of impossible recognition before the man shakes his head in dismissal, looks down at the Belgian Malinois in understanding. "It's not him, boy," he says, in a voice that suggests it isn't the first time he's thought he's imagined seeing a friend in a stranger's face.

Just a few more seconds, the man who isn't John thinks, as he watches the duo move closer. " _Hier_ ," he whispers, the words barely audible as they pass by. Bear whines and eagerly jumps at the man on the bench, giving slobbery, sloppy, wet kisses while the man revels in this sort of reunion, scratching at a spot on Bear's neck that he shouldn't know about anymore.

"Bear! No!" Not-Harold calls out, hurrying to pull his strangely unruly canine off of the stranger. "I'm so sorry," he says, when he's once again ordered Bear to his side. "I don't know what's gotten-"

"Nice dog," Not-John replies, failing to conceal the grin on his face when he meets the eyes of the man he's been waiting all this time for. "Mind if I join you on your walk?"

"N-not at all," the man who is not Harold stutters at him, eyes wide in awed shock. "Please."

Still smiling, he stands, gathering the leather jacket he'd tossed over the arm of the bench and his unread paper. He falls easily into step with the other man, with Bear between them on the winding park path, and the three of them set off together.

Later, when they've circled the entirety of the path and stand together at the exit to the park, the man who is not John Reese asks the man who is not Harold Finch to join him for dinner, to celebrate his recent move to Seattle. Agreements are made, time and place set, and reluctantly they part ways, though not nearly for as long as the last time they'd separated.

Because if any malicious government machines were to be observing this meeting, they would only be two people whose paths had crossed only once before - walking away from each other on a crowded New York City street months ago - who had chanced to meet again.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not change Bear's name, as the machines do not seem to recognize animals in their surveillance. I chose not to make up names for John and Harold.


End file.
